


you’re so different from the rest

by lovegalore



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, This is so soft, based of summer by brockhampton, jaebum has lots of sex, jinyoung plays the piano, soft im jaebum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovegalore/pseuds/lovegalore
Summary: The air always bleak, dusty, smoke filled even if nicotine isn't around, always an ash tray filled with knots that settle in his chest. Head turns soaked in tastes of lips that he would never be able to match to a face, shadows of hands that ghost his chest, imprinting, torn out, torn out always. Sucked back by the waves crashing over his fingertips, he looks down at his chest, letting out a breath he didn't know existed."Jaebum-ah, it's pretty isn't it?"





	you’re so different from the rest

It starts slow like the suds of soap that flowed down his back when he bathed underneath the sunlight that made his skin glow like an emerald in a room of dulled silver. The familiar warmth of a ninety-degree day where he'd dip his toes into saltwater, spend the whole day floating on his back, his nails nipping at the grass that was long overdue for a trim. His spilt ends soaked in water by the time the sun started to melt into pink and burn his eyelids with hope. On the inside, it makes stomach feel like it's full of raindrops, it makes his cheeks turn strawberry. 

Jaebum has always loved summer. 

Long gone were the days of schoolwork crushing his chest, only to be replaced by the cool beat of tide that reaches his heart. He'll spend his day on the old boardwalk that's damp no matter what, his neck dangling over the side while his hair floats in the water. He'll smile, the summer breeze has never failed him. 

Today is different, hot rain is pouring heavily over the water, and Jaebum is locked up inside. In his hands is a cup of fresh tea, it warms his fingers, making them red at the tips. His parents insist he doesn't go outside, they don't want him to get pneumonia, he doesn't think he'll mind. His heart aches for something to fill it correctly, like the flowers his mother grows that bloom in the spring into peach. Most of the time, Jaebum doesn't understand what he wants, but everyone has their days when all they wish for is a hand to hold and a mind to understand. 

He's not physically lonely if he wants to press someone into their mattress and kiss them until they fall apart, he will. Jaebum will go into the city, bring home a pretty girl or boy, spread their legs and whisper to them about how beautiful they are. (Even if he doesn't mean it, he never does.) It's not hard for him to find a quick hookup, especially when he's as heavenly as one may suppose. Carved with strong bone structure, a soft button nose, hazel hair that parts in the middles and catches a wave towards the end. When he speaks, his company will often become enticed with his words, the way they flow out of his pillowy lips so freely and eloquently, like he was born to do it. 

(When he was younger, his mom used to say Jaebum could be famous. His charming smile combined with his quick wit and intellect could make a very illegible candidate for the harrowing face covering a magazine. Jaebum doesn't think he'd like that- he wants to become a writer. He wants to write about the water and how he fell in love with the sunset the day he took a nap under it. He wants to write about the hips of cute boys and the way a girl's skin is warm against his. He wants to write about the emptiness that lives in the bottom of his heart, yearning to be filled. He wants to write because he's angry, why is he waiting for someone to come and care about him? He wants to write till he finds the answer, then he wants to write about the answer and fall in love with it. The same way he fell in love with summer, cool water and hot rain all included.) 

***

Jinyoung grows up in front of black and white keys, his childhood is a flurry of music pages and an old soul. Pouring his heart out onto burning yellow pages, adoring the corners of his fingertips with rough callouses that feel warm to the touch. He starts his day before the sun touches his eyelashes, his face resting in his hands while a kettle whistles before his heart can even catch up with the beats. Floorboards creak underneath his feet, ghosting every step he takes. 

A steaming cup of cocoa finds a home in between his hands, Jinyoung falls easily into his playing chair that rests cozily in front of his piano. He sets the cup down gently, lifting his head, exhaling into the crisp air that resides above him. Creeping through the shutters, sunlight shines across his cheekbones, floating all the way down to his stained lips. His eyelids flutter shut, his cheeks turning the lightest purple, breaths passing through his mouth. 

Setting to the task of being better than the day before, Jinyoung clouds his mind with the sole purpose of creating a new version of himself. He often has a hard time committing to things, it's difficult for him because he knows that the sun still is going to go down every night and swallow everything up with it, even him if he's not careful. So he'll lay his tracks quietly, calmly and pleasantly searching for something- or someone to commit to. 

(Jinyoung has only ever loved three things in his whole life. His Mother because she fed him until he was taught how to hold the fork; his Mother because she washed his body with lavender soap, oiled his skin with coconut, made sure he always had a pair of clean socks; his Mother because she laid blankets across his cold body in the chilling winter months, she'd go ice skating with him over the lake as soon as it'd freeze over; his Mother because she smells like honeysuckles and flour. He loves his piano, the only lifeline in his life that seems to be able to pull him in all the way. The keys formed perfectly underneath the pads of his fingertips, allowing him to create something to live for. His tangible, lovable, never-fleeting piano. His best friend. 

He loves the rain because, although not frequent, it always managed to clear out everyone who lived on the lake back into their homes, where they'd huddle up underneath hand-stitched quilts against a fire that burned in their furnace. That's when he would go outside, sit on the old damp boardwalk and let himself bask in the air while the rain poured down, humid and sticky. The mist tasted like salt, Jinyoung would stick his tongue out, letting the vapor dissolve in his mouth. Softly, sweetly, sourly, smiling. Jinyoung loves the rain.) 

*** 

Jaebum wakes up wrapped in a knitted blanket and a bed that doesn't belong to him. Next, to him is a boy with purple sucked into his skin, wavy curls covering half of his face, little tufts of air pass through his lips with a wheeze. Rubbing last night out of his eyes, Jaebum's feet feel cold on the dark wood beneath them. He picks up his blue jumper off the ground, slipping it over his stomach with ease, sighing while running a hand over his face. Buried deep underneath the countless thighs and baby pink turtlenecks, mixed with long blonde hair, kinky brown curls that turn red at the edges, chapped lips and soft skin; Jaebum can't help but feel sticky, like stars in the sky on a loud city night. 

He gives himself a glance at the mirror, eyes meeting soft brown that glow like embers in the light, he's upset. Looking around, Jaebum takes note of the beige walls that tie in with wooden furniture, lavender, sheer curtains that feel indifferent to the touch. The walls are lined with vinyls, shimmering lights that make the room feel warm, pictures of bright smiles and sugar. On the desk sits a pile of college applications, Jaebum winces because he doesn't even know the name that belongs to the hair of swollen lips. He just, really doesn't care either. 

***  
Jinyoung hums softly underneath his breath, his hair is soaked and his clothes stick to his body under the humid summer rain. He's laying on the ground, back pressed up to damp, dark green grass. His eyes are closed while the rain patters down his face, Jinyoung feels content with the loud sounds of silent waves crashing back and forth, only to retreat mellowly back into their spots. He wishes he could stay here forever. 

***  
Jaebum comes home to see the boy with pretty lips he grew up next to laying on the boardwalk. He's only spoken a few words to him, he'd seen him around at school a few times, he'd heard him play the piano like he was born to do. He often stays inside, his skin pale underneath the grey clouds, lacking the touch of others. Untainted. So, so tangible. 

He walks towards the boy, damp grass melting softly into his shoes, his hoodie strung up, turning dark from the rain. The boy has his eyelids shut, his face evoking total serenity, unbothered, at home. He wants to know, he wants to know him. 

"What are you doing out here?" His voice is rough and thick, throat scratchy, dipped in dark purple and red. Jinyoung looks up startled, his back rising from the ground, raindrops dripping off the ends of his soft hair. 

"Nothing," it's quiet for a few moments, "Who are you?" slips out of his lips. 

The air feels heavy, weighing down on earth, clamping to the soil without hesitation. 

"Jaebum," a voice without a waver. 

"I'm Jinyoung, it's nice to meet you." Jaebum nods in agreement, giving a smile, cheeks rounding. The rain continues to fall down, more sprinkles than sheets. Jinyoung breathes in softly, letting out a long sigh, constantly losing himself in between the waves. Jaebum sits down next to the other boy, stretching his hands out towards to water; it's cool to the touch, reminds him of drunk skin, muffled guitar, just missing the loneliness. 

He feels out of place, sitting next to such a docile boy whom obviously has a heart of copper. (Overlooked.) He can't help but think about the thighs he's pressed into mattresses, dirty moans and breathy whispers that only seem to exist for a quick night, solemnly replaced the next morning by a headache and sore neck. The air always bleak, dusty, smoke filled even if nicotine isn't around, always an ash tray filled with knots that settle in his chest. Head turns soaked in tastes of lips that he would never be able to match to a face, shadows of hands that ghost his chest, imprinting, torn out, torn out always. Sucked back by the waves crashing over his fingertips, he looks down at his chest, letting out a breath he didn't know existed. 

"Jaebum-ah, it's pretty isn't it?"

He only nods, staying silent.  
***

Summer drones on slowly, Jaebum and Jinyoung find themselves often sitting outside together, most of the time in silence, sometimes in an overwhelming abundance of roaring laughter. Shirtless pressed against the boardwalk, Jinyoung is restless. His mind wanders, slipping like silk into the wonders of music, self-made broken English lyrics mixed with breathy vocals of Korean are sung softly underneath his breath, fingers drumming along the wood. His peace however, is disturbed by Jaebum running towards him suddenly, jumping over his laying figure right into the water. 

Jinyoung screams playfully, watching Jaebum peek up from underneath the water grinning with a strong chin. 

"You asshole! You scared me," he says in between giggles, glaring at Jaebum with fake malice. 

The older just throws his head back in throaty laughter, shaking his head, "Hmmm, sucks to suck"

"I'll destroy you, Lim Jaebum."

"Oh really? I've never even see you get into the water." 

With that, Jinyoung runs quickly, splashing right into the water, spraying Jaebum with water. He rises from the water with a bright smile, wadding over to Jaebum where the older is bursting with red laughter, his face wide and cheeks full. Jinyoung hits his chest, pretending to choke the older boy. Jaebum splashes a great deal of water on Jinyoung. 

Jinyoung's heart sort of pounds. He's never really had a friend like this, a friend like Jaebum. He's spent years inside the house, training his mind and hands to play the piano like his only purpose in life was to know the keys. He had never felt like he was missing out on much, always content with his piano and sheet music. His life curled up into leather couches, spilled cherry soda, black and white keys, calloused hands, rain falling from the sky. His heart pours. He finds himself incredibly grateful for Jaebum, the smiles and laughter he offers with a seeming price. He's easy, compatible, natural, like breathing, just easier. 

A life that was once filled with notes, ceiling fans that whirl too fast or not enough, hand stitched quilts, floors that smell like ammonia. Always, always on alert, otherwise you might fall off. Now overflowing with sleet, cool air that tingles on the skin, clean pillowcases that smell like musk, soft carpet that he could fall asleep on. He has never felt so full, he doesn't know how he lived without this. 

"Jinyoung, will you play the piano for me?"

His breath catches, "Of course I will."

***

Sometimes, Jaebum wonders is he's a bad person. Too often he has seemed to find himself wrapped in sheets that feel like silk but burn like fire. Underneath stars the burn too brightly or don't burn enough, he'll reside in the empty coldness that belongs to a pretty boy's thigh. His mind is hazy, he's poured back one too many and all he can think about is lips that he swears would taste like salt. 

He wonders if it's because no one has ever really needed him, he's only been shown glimpses of love between the mattress and the smoke. He's constantly looking because he's always been lost. Maybe it's because he's selfish; a boy who cares only about himself and his words. On nights when his heart aches too much to ignore, he'll stay up until the sun beams into his fingertips and the bags that live underneath his eyes scream at him to go to bed. 

When he writes, he writes with a purpose and a passion that does not amount to anything else he's ever felt. He is selfish because he doesn't write about the colors of the sky, he writes about the thoughts that paint the back of his hand no matter how raw, how ugly, how beautiful, how sticky. (Jesus, he's so fucking tired of feeling sticky.) Page after page of soul written cursive that loops too tight or doesn't connect at all.

Love never seems to be definite, fleeting, Jaebum is sure he’d never be able to hold onto it. Something that tastes like bitter coffee in a world full of raspberry tea; who would want that? Why would anyone want that? 

***  
It’s midnight when Jaebum shows up. 

Jinyoung is sprawled out on the grass, looking up at the stars, playing the piano to a tune of a quiet heartbeat. Soft, subtle. There’s a beer bottle laying on the ground next to him, his lips parted slightly, little tufts of breath coming out. 

“Since when do you drink?” Jaebum echoes cooly, plopping down next to him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jinyoung’s tongue feels heavy, clearly hurting. 

Jaebum sighs, turning his body to face Jinyoung’s, “Mmm, what’s wrong ‘Nyoungie?” 

“I wasn’t good enough,” is all that he can get out before Jinyoung’s throat clamps, feeling hot and heavy. Before he knew it, tears spilled over his full cheeks, he felt so small underneath the beaming moonlight. Embarrassed, cowardly, meaningless, not good enough, not, not, not good. He was no good. 

“Hey, hey shh,” Jaebum said in a hushed whisper, placing his hands on Jinyoung’s chest, “Focus on me please?” 

Jinyoung latches onto Jaebum’s hands, head slipping underneath his neck, he smells like honey and sweat. Jaebum’s hands wander up and down his back, rubbing it soothingly. Jinyoung has his eyes closed, little hiccups coming from his mouth as his frame shakes heavily. 

Frowning Jaebum holds him a little tighter, “Can you tell me what happened?” He asks kindly, his voice low and gentle. Jinyoung opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, Jaebum just laughs softly before speaking again, “It’s okay, take your time.” 

Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow, his skin feels hot and clammy, everything is too, too much. It feels like poison. He tries one more time before he can finally get the words out, “I didn’t get it, I didn’t get, I wasn’t good enough. Jaebum my Mum was so disappointed, Jae oh you, you should’ve seen her.”

“Hey, shh calm down Jinnie, shh. What didn’t you get?” 

Jinyoung only sobs harder, cheeks cold with a hunched frame, “The piano, the fucking piano scholarship. Bummie, I worked so hard, so, so hard.” Jinyoung lets out another strangled sob, body aching as he curled up in Jaebum’s lap. 

The older boy only sighs, “It’s okay. Let it out, I’m right here.” He continues to run his fingers soothingly up and down Jinyoung’s back, rocking him slowly in the cool hair. He smiles slightly when Jinyoung’s sobs simmer down to small cries mixed with whimpers and a runny nose. His eyes are hazy and tired, running on no sleep. Fuck, Jaebum thinks he looks so pretty. 

He wonders if it’s love. 

***

Things change after that night. They still go swimming, Jinyoung still plays the piano, Jaebum sometimes disappears for a weekend. When he comes back Jinyoung doesn’t ask where he’s been, he doesn’t want to know. This time around though, they hold hands when they’re drenched saltwater and wake up next to each other. Jinyoung often wonders why they don’t speak about it, then he wonders if there’s anything to speak about. Jaebum’s skin is warm, that’s all he thinks that he’s learned. 

Today they’re wrapped up inside Jaebum’s room, the attic which he spent his fifteenth summer fixing up, the second best summer next to his seventeenth, the summer he found Jinyoung. Sunlight streams in through the window, masking over Jaebum’s face. Jinyoung is giggling, his eyes bleary and red, caught between his teeth a messily rolled blunt. His lips are glossy, forehead sweaty, cheeks bitten as he tilts his head exhaling; the smoke filling the room, soaking into his skin. 

Jaebum has his hand cupped over the spliff in his mouth, lighting it up with his Mother’s candle lighter. The fan is whirring in his direction, he’s shirtless and his stomach in glistening, faint abs stacked against a sharp collarbone, skin smooth like silk. The summer day is hot, Jaebum wanted to have an in day and Jinyoung just wanted to be alone with Jaebum. 

The unspoken truth between them lingers in the air when Jaebum leaves his hands wrapped around Jinyoung’s waist a moment too long, when Jinyoung too easily falls asleep against Jaebum’s thigh. The fire burns between their chests, controlled but not easily extinguished. They both kind of wonder if either is going to say a thing, they both kind of hope that the other will. 

The room is filled with smoke, smells like marijuana, feels like home. Jinyoung lets out a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs, letting them heat up before he release it slowly. He looks absolutely angelic, smoke mixed with his dark hair, puffy, drooling lips. Pretty, he’s so pretty. He looks like he could have the damn world at his fingertips. 

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” Jaebum speaks, voice heavy and hot, filled with good moments and peace. 

“Mmm,” Jinyoung is so, out of it, “Okay.”

***  
The room is loud, that’s the first thing Jinyoung notices. Jaebum seems to know everyone, that’s the second thing he takes note of. A cup is placed in his hand by the older boy, eyebrows raised as he takes a sip, his throat burning. Whoever mixed the drinks, did a terrible job. He just wanted some soju and a place to sit down. Parties have never really been his thing, he likes to play the piano and think about his childhood. 

A game is called, everyone starts to circle up, Jaebum included as he drags Jinyoung to sit in the circle with him. Mixed between a mismatched group of girls and boys who smell like alcohol, he feels extremely uncomfortable. The girls next to him are kissing, one has their hand wrapped up in the other’s purple hair, tugging on it slightly. A boy wearing a yellow sweater sits in the lap of a tired looking boy, Jinyoung almost snorts, because well, he feels the same way. 

They start to play a game of truth or dare, something Jinyoung has no interest in until Jaebum is called on. 

“Oooo! Jaebum, truth or dare?” A girl with curly hair asks, her smile wide and cheeks shining, Jinyoung thinks she’s beautiful. 

“Truth,” is Jaebum’s instant reply, a cup lifted to his lips. 

“Do you think anyone in the circle is cute?” 

“Of course,” Jaebum sighs, nudging Jinyoung’s thigh, making the younger’s cheeks burn. 

“Hmm, Jaebum! I dare you to kiss that person,” comes from the boy wearing the yellow sweater. Jinyoung almost chokes, his hands tightening. Jaebum just smirks, Jinyoung can feel his heart beating rapidly. Jaebum leans forward, past Jinyoung to meet the lips of a boy with bright red hair. And, oh, Jinyoung can’t handle it, he bolts up, abruptly scaring the others. He can hear Jaebum’s shout coming from behind him as he slams the door. 

He doesn’t care, he won’t. He can’t. 

***  
It takes fifteen minutes for Jaebum to find Jinyoung laying on the dock, his body stiff, angry, lonely, defensive. 

Before he can even speak Jinyoung does it for him, “What do you want?” His voice sounds like ice, painfully cold. 

“Jinyou-“ 

“No, don’t you dare Jinyoung me. What the hell Jaebum? Is that what you do? Make me play the piano for you, get drunk with me, buy shitty weed and get high with me? Just to go out on the weekends and kiss pretty boys with pretty lips? I’m not a hobby, fuck you Im not a hobby. You can’t just make me think you want me and then do shit like that.” He says, angry tears rolling down his cheeks, fists clenched and hair a mess. 

Jaebum can only laugh, “You really think that’s all you are to me? Really Jinyoung?” 

“What else am I supposed to think? You just fucking kissed him in front of me.” 

“God fucking damn it Park Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, marching forward and taking Jinyoung’s cheeks between his hands, capturing the boy’s soft, pouty lips with his own. The kiss is slow, it takes a few moments for Jinyoung to kiss back, once he does he melts like snow under the sun. “You, you make me want to feel. You drive me fucking crazy, with your pretty voice and stupid laugh. You’re all I can ever think about, I didn’t think you would ever want me.” 

“Why would you ever think that?” 

“Because look at you, don’t you know how beautiful you are? How could I ever,” 

He’s cut off short by Jinyoung kissing him once again, his lips tender and warm against his. This, this is not anything Jaebum has felt before. 

“Park, Park Jinyoung, you should be my boy,” he says before leaning down again, kissing the younger with love he didn’t he possessed.

“Okay, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> summer - brockhampton  
> will he - joji  
> love is not over - bts
> 
> song inspirations


End file.
